With fruitless pains / Might one like me 'now' visit many a tract / Which, in his youth, he trod, and trod again, / A lone pedestrian with a scanty freight, / Wished-for, or welcome, wheresoe'er he came— / Among the tenantry of thorpe and vill; / Or straggling burgh, of ancient charter proud, / And dignified by battlements and towers / Of some stern castle, mouldering on the brow / Of a green hill or bank of rugged stream.